JULY
FATHER Dougal went on Talkback on Tuesday to stand up for Loyal Ulster. In particular, Sammy Morrison went on to give the TUV take on the Westlink asbestos boney.
Kudos to him for going on in the first place while reps from other parties ran for cover. But as soon as you heard his name read out, you knew as surely as the sun rises in the morning that something memorably asinine was on the way, and so you bent towards the radio, turned it up just a bit, sipped your tea and waited.
It wasn’t long coming. Presented with the suggestion by the SDLP’s Seamas de Faoite that asbestos and young children are not a good mix, Sammy narrowed his eyes, stroked his chin and opened his mouth...
“We’ve an MP for South Belfast [Claire Hanna], an MP for that area, who within the last two and a half weeks has been critici... has been defending Kneecap and their glorification of terrorism.”
We didn’t need the various off-mic noises to tell us that Sammy had achieved something remarkable. We didn’t need the harrumphs of disapproval to tell us that here was a man at the top of his loyal game.
“Anybody who doesn’t think that there’s a link,” he continued, “between unionism thinking or loyalism thinking that there’s an attack on our culture for every this, that and the other and nationalists and republicans can get away with... [fades out].”
Squinter doesn’t know whether the BBC cut Sammy’s microphone at this point or whether he lost his train of thought. Whatever the case, a nation gasped and shook its head. Here, at last, was a summer soundbite to rival the classic “Stop building houses beside bonfires.”
What exactly it was that Sam was trying to say still isn’t clear. Was he saying that Claire Hanna put ten tons of asbestos tiles on a derelict site off the Donegall Road? Given that the material has been there for years, long before the bonfire, that would have required an extraordinary degree of forward-planning, not to say an extraordinary amount of wheelbarrows and helpers; and while Squinter knows Claire is a woman of many talents, he rather doubts this thesis.
Is Sammy saying that Kneecap are worse than asbestos? That seems more likely, given that Loyal Ulster generally sees the West Belfast/Derry rap trio as third on the list of the worst things to have happened to Are Wee Country after Gerry Adams and Semtex.
But is ‘Get Your Brits Out’ really worse than a slow, lingering death on a ventilator? Is ‘Your Sniffer Dogs are Shite’ more to be feared than a slow loss of lung function and the long, agonising wait for somebody to die so you can get their lungs? Squinter rather doubts it, but he nevertheless can only admire Sammy’s devotion to the cause.
The next question he has to answer is ‘Who’s going to carry the bag if the bonfire destroys the power supply to the RVH and the City?’ Personally, Squinter would plump for the Wolfe Tones as ‘Ooh, ah, up the Ra’ is clearly more egregious than Intensive Care Units shutting down and surgeons being left in the dark with scalpels raised.
AUGUST
THERE’S a massive business opportunity for Loyal Ulster as Operation Raise the Colours continues apace. Bare-bellied, Stella-swigging legions of stout English yeomen are painting St George’s flags on roundabouts and erecting flags on lampposts from Birmingham to Bradford and from Liverpool to Leeds, but while their intentions are honourable and their hearts are as big as their livers, they are complete amateurs.
What the Farage Fusiliers need is experienced advice.What they need is dependable information on how to make a normal residential street look like a Las Vegas car showroom on a sale day. What they need are consultants. And if any lovers of the Ulster fleg and the union jack are willing to share their decades of knowledge and nous with their English cousins, Invest NI stands ready to provide the seed capital. Always ready to turn a quick quid, Squinter has already formed a new company and will be reaching out to Reform UK, Tommy Robinson, Britain First and GB News offering premium flag consultation services at hugely competitive rates.
As the CEO of Lamppost Solutions Inc. (UK), Squinter has brought his decades of experience to bear and identified a number of basic failings that English flag enthusiasts are exhibiting as they attempt to claim back their country, restore national pride and get the darkies out.
STAKEHOLDERS
‘Patriots’ is okay; ‘Concerned Citizens’ is fine; ‘Ordinary Mums’ is effective as far as it goes; and ‘Worried Dads’ can certainly get a job done. But these terms exclude the very heart and soul of Operation Raise the Colours, they ignore the people who are the lifeblood of this inspirational outbreak of flag fever. Squinter’s talking about the Ankle Tag Army, the Significant Criminal Record-holders who are doing the spadework every day and night. A recent report revealed that over 50 per cent of the men convicted in relation to the Southport race riots that erupted across England were convicted domestic abusers. Here in Loyal Ulster, we have identified a way of bringing this vital cohort into the mainstream without reference to their non-patriotic side activities. We bring sectarian killers, gangsters and drug lords into the fold with politicians, residents and community leaders by referring to everyone involved as ‘Stakeholders’. And it looks great on a form.
HEIGHT
Here in Our Wee Country, we learned many, many years ago that flags must not be put up on lampposts at a height that is easily accessible by passing Antifa types, Marxist agitators, drag queens or Catholics. If they are within arm’s length, or even with a leg-up’s length, they will be pulled down. That is not to say that flags should go be put right at the top of the lamppost beside the, ah, lamp – a fall from that height could mean death instead of mere life-changing injuries. But it is to say that an effort must be made to get the flag out of harm’s way, and that means using ladders. Since lampposts are round and not flat, the placing of ladders against them poses considerable health and safety challenges which our technicians will be happpy to discuss with you either via Zoom or on site visits. Please note that the alarm on ankle tags may sound if patriots are placing flags on lampposts near schools.
RIGHT WAY UP
Here in our little corner of the United Kingdom we have this very simple equation that we rely on when considering the always tricky question of which is the right way up for the union jack:
The white bar in the upper right hand quadrant adjacent to the multiple bars of varying colour must be broader by a factor of 1.73 than the white bar at the diametrical quadrant adjacent to sundry bars of varying latitude. The rectangular orientation of the relevant flag will see the bars self-align if hoisted vertically in a strictly linear matrix relating precisely to the non-deviating parallelogram that represents the relevant region or regions. The intersectional longevity of the traverse bar will then naturally form an elongated horizontal reference point for the convergence of the object configuration.
We hand out this ultra-reliable explainer in the spring to lamppost crews along with the ladders and the Buckfast. It has ensured that the union jack is hung the right way up on loyal lampposts at least 27 per cent of the time.
TARGET AUDIENCE
With the assumption that those raising the flags have flags in their own homes and on the lamppost outside anyway, we move on to consider who is meant to view and admire the St George’s cross and the union jack. First and foremost, the newly-erected flags are intended to remind the flag-agnostic of what the flag of the UK is, what the flag of England is, and why it is necessary to be in sight of them at all times. Some time ago, Loyal Ulster moved away from the traditional flag model of hoisting flags in PUL (Protestant, unionist, loyalist) areas to putting them up in TDP (Taigs, darkies and poofs) areas. This has the beneficial effect of reminding residents where they live (street names will soon all be in Irish and utility bills can be easily misplaced) and who’s in charge.
SEPTEMBER
TUV deputy leader Ron McDowell popped up in the News Letter on Monday to express his horror and disgust at the selling of Kneecap balaclavas at a Kneecap concert.
Ron didn’t object to the balaclavas because they are in the colours of the Irish flag, although Squinter suspects we’re on firm ground if we speculate that he’s not over the moon about that. Rather, Ron was on his high white horse over the fact that tricolour balaclavas were worn by the Bon Jovis during the Troubles.
“The sight of young people wearing green, white, and orange balaclavas at the Kneecap concert in Belfast last Friday is deeply troubling,” he said. “These are not fashion items – they are associated with the terrorist campaign that terrorised our Province.”
The first thing to say is that that the Kneecap tricolour balaclavas are very much fashion items – just ask Hollywood A-lister Tom Hardy. And they’re particularly fashionable at music festivals, of course, where they are as common a sight these days as bucket hats, sunglasses and spliffs. The second thing to say is that if you Google ‘Ron McDowell pix’ you’ll find very quickly that fashion is not his thing and that his vibe is more Christian soldier than Christian Dior. So we can give Ron a by-ball on that.
But what poor, daft old Ron can’t be forgiven for is thinking that the IRA went about their business wearing green, white and orange headgear. Squinter is a child of the Troubles, and in his time he has seen an array of makeshift military headwear worn by the Hucklebucks on the teeming streets of Lenadoon. He’s seen face masks made out of nylons and tights; he’s seen them made out of the sleeves of Gilbert jumpers; he’s seen them made out of scarves. He’s even seen the IRA wearing balaclavas, but they were always black.
There’s a reason for the black. While the primary function of a balaclava is to hide one’s facial features and thereby evade identification, it also helps if the balaclava lacks brightness. Let’s see if we can concoct a little scenario that might help Ron understand why his suggestion that tricolour balaclavas were standard IRA issue has caused some hilarity in the less staunchly loyal reaches of social media.
So you’re a young, newly-arrived British soldier in a sentry post, on a roof, peeking out the gunslit in a saracen – whatever. It’s nighttime and you’re a more than a little bit paranoid. While there are occasional sodium splashes of lamplight, it’s mostly black as the last Saturday in August. There are things moving out there, but you don’t know what those things are because they are no more than vague, dark, threatening shapes. You could be looking at the black shadow of the waving branch of a tree. You could be looking at a black binbag being carelessly tossed through the night air by a light evening breeze. You could be looking at a black cat padding silently along the top of a wall. And yes, you could be looking at a black balaclava lining you up in its sights. And by the time you finished wondering, it’s too late and you’re heading home in a box in the cargo hold of a military plane.
But you’d be fine if the guy who shot you had decided that instead of a black balaclava that night he was going to wear his green, white and orange one. You’d be fine because you’d have spotted him before he left his ma’s house. So do you understand now, Ron?
You do?
Splendid.
So can you see why the tricolour balaclava was never part of the IRA uniform, like you said it was, Ron?
You can?
Super.
Have you a better understanding of the simple fact that the Kneecap balaclava is nothing more than an attention-grabbing part of the Kneecap performance persona?
You haven’t?
Never mind.
OCTOBER
THE lack of officers in the PSNI has been worrying Chief Constable Jon Boutcher so much he’s decided to lend some of them out.
The same force which did traffic duty for a UVF show of strength on the Newtownards Road last summer flew an undisclosed number of officers to London to arrest elderly protesters who’ve had enough of seeing bits of babies hanging from telephone wires in Gaza.
MOBILE UNIT: PSNI officers arresting an elderly protester in Trafalgar Square
Arresting blind nuns and retired nurses in wheelchairs has not proved as easy as envisioned, and so Met Commissioner Sir Mark Rowley decided to enlist some expert help. He had seen the videos of a PSNI special ops team successfully executing a hard stop on a 72-year-old Jewish Gaeilgeoir about the place a sticker on an ATM; and he had been tremendously impressed by officers from the elite Anti-OAP Unit subduing a dinner lady in a keffiyeh.
Met sources have told Squinter that Saturday’s ‘Operation Trafalgar Trevor’ had been a complete success and that all officers had returned safely to base. Claims that This Here Pravince had been left under-policed – or more under-policed than usual – were hotly denied. The following transcripts of the fully functioning Saturday evening 999 service proves that to be the case...
– Brrrr, brrr.
– Hello, 999, which emergency service do you require?
– Police. And for god’s sake hurry. (Loud banging, muffled shouting is heard.)
– One second please madam.
– Brrr, brrr.
– Hello, police, how may I help you?
– Come quick, he’s outside the bathroom door. (Loud banging, muffled shouting.)
– Who is?
– My partner. (Loud banging, muffled shouting.)
– I’m sorry, we’re currently understaffed at the moment due to resource deployment.
– Due to what? (Loud banging, muffled shouting.)
– Resource redeployment.
– What the hell’s that? (Loud banging, muffled shouting.)
– It means everybody’s over in London.
– Doing what? (Loud banging, muffled shouting.)
– Arresting baddies.
– What am I supposed to do? (Wood splintering, louder shouting.)
– We may be able to get someone along on Monday afternoon. Would that suit...? Hello... Hello madam? I said would that suit?
– Click. Brrr...
– Brrrr, brrr.
– Hello, 999, which emergency service do you require?
– (Panting heavily) Police, please.
– One second.
– Brrr, brrr.
– Hello, police, what’s your emergency please?
– Yes, (panting heavily), I’ve caught a burglar in my house and I’m sitting on his chest.
– Is the man armed, sir?
– He was (panting heavily), but I took the knife off him.
– We’re sending someone to your address. Do you think you can keep him there until officers arrive?
– I’ll try (panting heavily). When do you think they’ll be here?
– Tuesday any good?
– Tuesday?
– Yes, unfortunately those Cockney pensioners are kicking off again...
– Brrrr, brrr.
– Hello, 999, which emergency service do you require?
– (Whispering.) Police. And hurry.
– Brrr, brrr.
– Police, how may I help you?
– (Whispering) There’s two men in the front of my shop demanding money for the UVF.
– Are they armed?
– (Whispering) I don’t know. Can you send someone right away?
– Hmmmm, good question.
– (Whispering) Look, do you want to catch these guys or not?
– In an ideal world, yes. Let’s try this a different way. What do they look like?
– (Whispering) One’s baldy, has a big gold chain and he’s wearing a North Face puffer.
– You’re not helping me much here.
– (Whispering) Oh, he has a lightning bolt tattoo on his neck.
– That’s Stewarty. He’s pretty harmless. Unless you don’t give him what he wants. What about the other one?
– (Whispering) Baldy, gold chain, North Face puffer, big purple vape.
– Ah. Pliers. He’s just there in case there’s trouble.
– (Whispering) Trouble from who?
– You, probably.
– (Whispering louder) Look, are you going to send anybody or not?
– Let me just check officer availability here (keyboard clicking)... return flight... easyJet London Gatwick to Belfast International (keyboard clicking)... Wednesday (keyboard clicking)... oh nine forty-five (keyboard clicking).... Bear with... Thursday any good?
– (Whispering) Not really.
– Pity.
– (Whispering) What do I do now?
– Put Stewarty on, will you?
NOVEMBER
WAIT. Wasn’t Gavin Robinson supposed to be a nice guy?
Big, cuddly, smiley, soft-spoken Gavin. The kind of person who’d cut your grass when you were away in Benidorm for a week. The kind of person who’d shake his head and tell you to stop when you said something spiteful about someone.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the Accidental Leader? A bloke who ended up at the head of the Nasty Mob because the really nasty ones were tearing nasty lumps out of each other?
How badly did Squinter get that wrong? How badly did nationalist and republican Ireland get that wrong?
His tweet in the wake of the acquittal of Soldier F last week was, on the face of it, standard unionist stuff:
I welcome todays (sic) common sense judgement. Soldier F trial has been a painful and protracted process. There needs to be a better way of dealing with the legacy of the past and to ensure no rewriting of it.
No specific mention of the families of the Bloody Sunday dead, but that’s okay. Loyal Ulster is not renowned for its empathy and if you want you can take the ‘painful and protracted process’ remark as encompassing everyone involved in the bloody, sorry saga. But then Gav went and whacked in the Parachute Regiment badge (below), which he knows as well as the rest of us is triggering to the people of a city for whom the word ‘triggering’ has a particular resonance.
Jamie Bryson loved it so much he did it too. Carla Lockhart was similarly moved to put up the image. Neither of these could ever be considered to have been with Gav in the ‘Dead-On Really’ wing of unionism. Both of them, in fact, would be widely considered to be among the leading lights in the ‘Boy I Miss the ’50s’ unionist tendency.
Who knows if Gavin knew what he was doing? Who knows if he knew that his time at the head of the DUP – however long it lasts – will be defined by the Para badge every bit as much as Arlene Foster’s is defined by a crocodile.
DECEMBER
THE BBCNI aspirational accent has been a source of joy and wonderment to Squinter for as long as he can remember. And while he’ll miss The Traitors and Match of the Day and Newsnight if Donald Trump manages to close the BBC down, it’s the prospect of the disappearance of the unequalled and unknowable received pronunciation of Ormeau Avenue that’s really upsetting Squinter about Auntie’s current travails.
Where else is Squinter going to hear about heavy snoo causing traffic congestion at Sandynools roindaboit? Where’s he going to access a vox pop from the car park of the local shoppang mall? And where else is he going to get three square mails a day?
What’s that? You don’t know what a mail is? Fair enough...
Good Morning Ulster presenter Chris Buckler was doing a piece on the wireless as Squinter drove to work recently about a hike in the price of school meals. Only Chris, whose accent is the BBCNI gold standard, said what was going up in price was a school “mail”. He actually said “skooill mail” but since the BBCNI two-syllable school has been with us for many years, let’s stick to the new one. Well… new to Squinter anyway.
Squinter has no idea – even as someone with a lifelong interest in phonetics and language – what wonderful mixture of school, geography, class and attitude combined to turn the word ‘meal’ into ‘mail’. He gets that the narrowing and sharpening of vowels is a flamboyant rejection of the working-class Belfast accent, whose vowels are wider than the Irish Sea.
And he gets that spectacularly over-emphasising the final syllable in one’s present participles serves the same purpose in a city where the final ‘g’ comes and goes according to postcode. But he’s at a loss to know how in the name of great Odin’s beard a school ‘meal’ became a school ‘mail’.
Chris has spent a fair bit of time working for the Beeb in England and the United States, so perhaps it’s a case of Charlie Lawson meets Graeme McDowell.
Squinter will continue to give it a bit of thought with a promise to get back to you should anything occur. In the meantime, let’s hope Tesco doesn’t bump up the price of its Meal Deal.
